


What the Hell is a Poltergeist

by Pyx



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward situations, First Kiss, Fluff, Grantaire is not a ghost, I love my sweet french children, Les Amis de l'ABC Shenanigans, Love Confessions, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Pining, because that's literally their entire relationship, bed sharing, ghosts???, i don't know anything about ghosts, so much pining, thanks for helping google
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 07:39:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9062725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyx/pseuds/Pyx
Summary: Enjolras moves in his new apartment and discovers that he's not the only person living in it. Well, "living" isn't exactly the right word.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the lovely Apollo! For the 2016 Les Miserables gift exchange! You can find their tumblr at cuttingroomfloorofmemories (every time I try to embed a link, it sends me to an error page, I'll figure that out one day)
> 
> Apollo, I hope you like it! And I'm sorry for bombarding you with messages the last couple of days because I have no idea how secret santa exchanges work (because I'm weird and have never celebrated Christmas before, which is why this doesn't take place at Christmas). If there's anything that you want me to change, please let me know and I'll change it. Love you, you sweet smol bean!

Enjolras has never once believed in the concept of a ghost. In fact, the whole idea to him seemed absolutely ludicrous. And yet, he finds himself staring at his brand new apartment in completely unbridled shock. It’s his first time living alone and the rent is super cheap, and now he’s starting to figure out why. This is what happens when your two best friends start dating and you decide to move to give them space. You get a haunted apartment.

And it feels impossible. But his chest feels heavy and his head is spinning. And he already wants to call his friends back, but he knows he shouldn’t. He’s been in his apartment for twelve hours now and all twelve hours were him and his friends moving in his furniture and boxes. And now that they’re gone, he’s discovering exactly what it means to see the impossible.

There’s one person he can think of who would be into this and he hates to admit it. Jehan would enjoy this, but would never come back and would probably never be the same again. But that isn’t who he’s thinking of.

But thinking is really hard when his boxes are turning themselves over and pouring their contents all over the floor of his apartment. It’s incredible and surprisingly beautiful and Enjolras thinks he should say something, but he suspects that trying to communicate with ghost is probably similar to communicating with the weather: useless.

So Enjolras backs out of his apartment, keys and phone in hand, and books it down the stairs and down the street. The walk isn’t far, but every step feels like an eternity. And when he finally makes it to his destination, he stares at the wooden door in front of him, for maybe far too long before he actually decides to knock. It feels like an eternity longer when the door finally opens.

“Apollo?” Grantaire stares at Enjolras and takes in his shock and silence. “Are you...okay?”

Enjolras shakes himself, physically and mentally. “I...think I might be in need of your help.”

“You need my help at…”Grantaire glances back into his apartment for a moment. “One o’clock in the morning?”

“Please.” It isn’t a word that Enjolras uses often. And he realises it in that moment, so he decides to start saying please and thank you all the time if he makes it out of this situation. Grantaire sighs and disappears into his apartment and Enjolras thinks that he’s just going back to sleeping or drinking or artisting, but he reappears with his coat and locks his door.

“Alright, man. Lead the way.”

They walk back to Enjolras’ apartment and Grantaire realises it pretty quickly and gives Enjolras a wary glance. “I can’t explain until we get there. Please understand, but I don’t know exactly how to explain it.”

“Well, I’m not nervous at all.” Grantaire shoves his hands into his hoodie and worries his bottom lip with his teeth. Enjolras traces the movement with his eyes and resolutely ignores the stirring feeling in his gut.

“That’s maybe the right feeling.” Enjolras stares at his apartment door and finally opens it. There’s stuff everywhere and his tea kettle is floating in the middle of his living room, whistling loudly. He risks a glance at Grantaire.

Grantaire is staring at the tea kettle like he thinks that this is a practical joke. But Enjolras can see the exact moment when he stops feeling that way. And instead of looking at Enjolras or leaving the room or deciding that this is out of his league, Grantaire walks over fallen home goods and sprawled out blankets and pillows to the middle of the living room and goes straight up to the tea kettle and lifts the little silver part to make the whistling stop.

“Great. So now that I can hear…” Grantaire turns back to Enjolras with an expectant look on his face. “You have a poltergeist?” His face is delighted, the epitome of ecstasy and Enjolras wants to scream. Which is his first emotional reaction to this situation and that kind of feels nice. But it can’t drown out the feeling of complete bewilderment and irritation towards Grantaire’s attitude. “Oh, come now, Apollo. Something impossible is happening and we’re witnessing it.”

The kettle clatters to the floor with a deafening noise. And books rise from the overturned boxes and float gently in circles around the coffee table and sofa. Enjolras stares at it and wants to feel something, but all he can manage is confusion and inconvenience. Because there is no way that this is happening. He has to be dreaming. Grantaire takes a step back from the books and turns to look at Enjolras.

“Enj. Say something.” Grantaire’s voice is a gentle anchor, carefully bringing Enjolras back to the present.

“I’m sorry, Grantaire. I don’t know what’s happening and I don’t know what to do.” Enjolras turns to look at the artist desperately.

“And you think _I_ do?”

“Clearly not. But I figured that you’re the best at, you know...”Enjolras waves his hand in the air in a small circle, indicating the world. “This thing. You always seem to be able to figure out weird shit that happens” He has gained back just a little bit of ice to his words.

“Well, I guess I should be honoured to know that you thought of me first rather than Combustion and Courtesan.” Enjolras looks at him even more confused and Grantaire runs a hand through his hair. “Combeferre and Courfeyrac. They’ve got weird names. You’ve got a weird name. We all have weird names. Alright, I’m freaking out here. Because there’s a fucking gentle tornado of books in your apartment and shit’s floating, alright? And I don’t even know the first things about ghosts other than they’re fucking dead. And a fucking god from Mount fucking Olympus decided that fallen Dionysus would be his best chance at making it through this.”

Enjolras is stunned into silence because Grantaire’s facade had faded so quickly. He can’t answer back. So he reaches out and grabs a book from the “tornado” just to see what will happen. And nothing happens, they just keep going around. “Maybe I have to finish moving in.”

“I don’t follow your train of thought and I am not helping you unpack in the middle of the night. I may not sleep very often, Enjolras. But it’s been at least three days of running off of shit coffee and rum. Can we sleep on this?” Grantaire looks at the sofa and it looks very inviting right now, even if it is possible that the poltergeist would pelt him with books. But then he remembers that he lives three blocks away and he could probably just walk back to his place and sleep.

“We can handle this tomorrow, if you aren’t working?” Enjolras sticks the book back into the tornado and it floats gently again in its orbit.

“Tomorrow.” Grantaire promises. After a beat, he adds, “Do you wanna stay the night at my place?”

“Yes.” Enjolras answers way too quickly, but can’t be bothered to care or worry. “Gimme a moment.” He basically runs to shove clothes and a toothbrush into a backpack. “Get me out of here.” All the books in the living room fall to the floor and the sofa falls onto its back.

“I don’t think it wants you to leave…” Grantaire stares at the mess in a mix between fear and awe.

“I don’t care.” Enjolras takes Grantaire by the hand and tugs him out into the hallway. “Take me home, Grantaire.” He completely misses the way Grantaire’s face burns bright red and how silent he immediately becomes. He’s always been called oblivious, but he mostly cares about getting the hell out of this building and sleeping.

They’re halfway to Grantaire’s apartment when Enjolras realises that they’re still holding hands. He clears his throat and gently pulls his hand away. Grantaire still doesn’t say anything, just puts his hand into his hoodie.

Oh, and the powers that be must hate Grantaire, since Jehan is passed out on his sofa with the television on. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Nonsense. I’m the one imposing.”

“No, please. A god like you can’t sleep on the floor.” Grantaire says and goes down the hall. “Here, take my bed. I promise that all of the paint is dry, I just can’t get it out of the duvet cover.” He chuckles and stands aside for Enjolras. “C’mon. It’s a really comfortable bed. And I don’t use it nearly enough. You’ll love it.”

Enjolras stands in the doorway and looks at Grantaire with the same look that he gets during a particularly impassioned speech. “I don’t mind sharing a bed with you. It looks big enough for the both of us.”

Grantaire mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like, _He doesn’t even realise what he says._ And sighs and looks up. “Fine. But I’ve gotta shower and wash up. You go first, and I’ll go when you’re done.”

Enjolras takes his stuff into the bathroom and Grantaire decides to do something cleaning in his apartment. It’s not that messy, but he’s mostly concerned about the amount of dishes accumulating in the kitchen sink. He turns off the television, secretly hoping that Jehan would wake up and he would be able to sleep on the sofa. But there’s a part of him that’s thrilled that Jehan keeps sleeping because that means he’ll be sharing a bed with Enjolras. So many impossible things in one night. He’s starting to really regret his continued decision of existing. But this is a rare opportunity. He’s up to his elbows in soap suds when the shower shuts off.

His heart stops when he sees Enjolras exit the bathroom dressed in only too-tight briefs and little rivulets of water run down his chest. Grantaire soaks in the broad expanse of his chest and how strong his shoulders and arms are.

“The shower’s all yours.” Enjolras says as though isn’t the most beautiful man to exist.

Grantaire nods, his mouth dry. He runs straight into his bathroom as soon as Enjolras in his room. It smells like his soap and he realises that his god smells like him.

Enjolras is no fool. Often oblivious. But he knows quickly clearly what he does to Grantaire. And if he’s being completely honest with himself, he’s been waiting on Grantaire to make a move for a decent amount of time.

So when Grantaire climbs into bed and stays as far away from Enjolras as he can, Enjolras is mildly put out. Put out being a bit of an understatement. “I don’t bite, Grantaire.”

Grantaire makes a small noise in the back of his throat. And scoots just a little closer to the middle of the bed. “I usually sleep kind of falling off the bed anyways.”

“Then why do you need such a big bed?” Enjolras tries to tease.

“Because one day, the love of my life and I will share it.” Grantaire teases right back, but it makes Enjolras’ heart clench painfully. “Tell me, Apollo, what’s the plan for tomorrow? What the hell are we gonna do about your ghost?”

Grantaire turns on his side so that they’re facing each other and Enjolras falls quiet and moves closer to Grantaire and tries to cover it up by shifting. “I don’t actually know. But I wanna see if moving all my stuff in will make it calm down.”

“I don’t know if that’ll work, _mon ange_.” Grantaire’s voice is uncharacteristically soft.

“Maybe, I guess we’ll problem solve in the morning.” Enjolras yawns and Grantaire is saying something, but his eyes are closing and the world is dark and his thoughts are drifting. And sleep comes in a gentle cycle. But he swears he feels fingers push away the hair from his face.

\--- --- ---

Grantaire wakes up slowly. There’s a light streaming in from his window and it makes him reluctant to open his eyes. It doesn’t help that he’s feeling ridiculously comfortable and warm. He has hair in his mouth and he should probably get it out, but his arms are feeling heavy, so he’ll wait to do it. And there are worse things in life than having hair in his mouth. Worse things like having a ghost.

His eyes shoot open and he sees beautiful blonde curls, turning a sweet golden colour in the sunlight. Grantaire immediately becomes aware of all of his limbs and body parts and how he’s curled around Enjolras and how Enjolras has an arm and a leg thrown over his body. Which means his groin is pressed right up against Grantaire’s hip and he can feel a certain hardness pressed against him.

Instead of moving, he allows himself these few moments and settles back into the bed comfortably. But, like all good moments do, this one ends. He can feel the exact moment when Enjolras tenses up and realises that he’s been sporting just a little bit of a hard on. And it thrills Grantaire to his core when Enjolras doesn’t just up and leave.

Instead, Enjolras gently clears his throat and leans up on one elbow. Grantaire’s eyes open and he looks at Enjolras whose eyes are fixated on his face. “Sometimes, the human body reacts in such a way that could be misconstrued as impropriety, and I have never said that my body’s anatomy is different from anyone else’s. So, my body’s reaction to you is a combination of attraction and involuntary behaviour.”

“Alright, Mister Scientist.” Grantaire rolls his eyes, but the word ‘attraction’ spins through his head at a mile a minute and he wishes he didn’t feel so excited about it, but god, he does. Enjolras is attracted to him? That’s nonsense. There’s no way a god could find a mere mortal as anything less than an accident. Also, did Enjolras just pull that whole damn speech out of his ass?

Enjolras flops back down into the bed and continues to cuddle with Grantaire. “Your bed is quite comfortable.”

“If you’re trying to keep from going to deal with your ghost, that isn’t gonna work.” Grantaire wants nothing more than to lay in this bed for the rest of his life with his golden Apollo, but he knows that nothing will come out of his pining. “I don’t have to work on any commissions today, but I have a mural to start tomorrow afternoon at the library. We’ve already wasted today away, it’s probably past noon.”

“Impossible, I never sleep past nine.” And true enough, the clock next to them says 8:45 in the morning. “So, I think we can afford to keep laying here for a little bit longer.” Enjolras shifts so that Grantaire is under his neck and his own arm is tucked up and behind Grantaire’s head. “You do have a really nice bed though.”

“I spent a small fortune on it; I certainly hope that it’s a good bed.” Grantaire tries to swallow down the feeling of euphoria that’s begun to spread throughout his entire body, but feeling Enjolras semi-hard and still cuddling with him is one of those rare moments of extreme joy that even he can’t ignore.

“I’d say it’s worth it.” Enjolras pulls the blankets up to his chin and tries to subtly leech heat from Grantaire. “You’re very warm.”

“And your toes are freezing.”

“Grantaire?”

“Yes?”

Enjolras draws uncertain patterns across the plane of Grantaire’s chest and it’s all that Grantaire can do to not take those fingers in his and hold them steady. Nevertheless, goosebumps grow across his chest and arms and the gentle sensation. “I’ve been thinking...for a rather long time now. That we’ve been friends for a number of years, and we’ve spent a lot of time together and I’ve always appreciated our discussions--” Enjolras cuts himself off. “I’m just excited for you to help me exorcise my apartment.”

“Should we...call other people?” Grantaire takes Enjolras’ hand in his own because he can’t take the gentle tracing over is chest anymore. And it shocks him at how natural this feels. “I feel like Courfeyrac would straight up freak out if he got to see this.”

“We should probably keep this a small affair.” Enjolras entwines their fingers and Grantaire clears his throat. “As much as I think they would enjoy it.”

“They really would.” Grantaire can’t take it anymore and gets out of bed. He doesn’t miss the way Enjolras looks at him longingly. “C’mon, lazy. Lemme make you something good to eat.”

“But you’ve already been so accommodating. And you were so warm.” Enjolras curls up more into Grantaire’s blankets. 

“Alright, crazy. You come out whenever you feel like it.” Grantaire leaves the bedroom and goes into his bathroom to wash up. But he decides to not put pants on quite yet, because this is his apartment, and if any of his other friends were around, he wouldn’t be wearing pants either. A quick glance into the living room tells him that Jehan has already gone to work for the day.

Enjolras is sitting up in bed, wearing one of Grantaire’s shirts when he comes out from the bathroom. Grantaire stops walking, breathing, existing, for just a moment. Enjolras’ face turns just a little bit red and he fiddles with the hem of the shirt. “So...I hope you don’t mind. But it looked so soft. Much better than mine.”

“Yeah--” Grantaire’s voice comes out rough, so he swallows and tries again. “Right, no, please. Keep wearing it.” Grantaire picks up Enjolras’ shirt from the night before and pulls it on, partially because he wants to and partially because it feels like the right thing to do.

Enjolras watches him leave the room then falls back into the bed. He’d been hoping that Grantaire would do something. Maybe they should figure out the ghost thing. It isn’t like Enjolras has been pining for over a year now.

\--- --- ---

They get back to Enjolras’ apartment after a very nice breakfast consisting of pancakes, eggs, and fresh honeydew. But instead of just going inside, Enjolras stares at his apartment door, tugging on the hem of the shirt he’s wearing. The smell grounds him and he finally unlocks it and opens the door. The books, thankfully, are no longer orbiting his living room and it looks like nothing is out of the ordinary. And the sofa has moved so it’s on the opposite side of the room. And everything looks pretty normal otherwise. Despite the mess.

Enjolras turns to Grantaire. “Would you like to help me move in?” He gives artist a weak smile and goes over to lift up his sofa.

Grantaire tries to smile at Enjolras as though the prospect doesn’t terrify him. But he knows that it does, and he’s sure his smile comes out as unsure. But Enjolras is already too fixated on how to make his apartment become a home for a living human being and not a poltergeist.

“You know…as far as poltergeists go, you’ve got yourself a pretty docile one.” Grantaire makes his way over to Enjolras’ books and starts to organise them into a shelf, only mildly terrified of the possibility of the books deciding to attack him. But they don’t attack him and that is perfectly fine by him. He remembers that Enjolras prefers his books to be organised first by genre and then by author’s last name. So he does exactly that, starting with textbooks on the bottom shelf where they’re the heaviest.

Enjolras snorts and starts pick up his scattered home goods that had been forcefully removed from their boxes the day before. “Maybe I just have myself a really confused ghost.” He plops down on the floor and starts to refold his throw blankets and linens.

After that they work in relative silence, always on edge just in case the ghost decided to do something crazy. But so far, it seems like it’s going to go just fine. Around noon and they’ve finished the living room, Enjolras suggests lunch. And he takes a peek into his refrigerator and promptly shuts it and picks up his phone.

“You like dim sum, right?”

“I do.” Grantaire is fairly surprised that Enjolras knows that, but thinking back, he’s pretty sure that he’s waxed poetic about dim sum on more than one occasion. “How are you getting it? I’m pretty sure that places like that usually don’t deliver.”

“Oh. Uber. I love Uber.” Enjolras pulls up a menu for a place not too far away, but too far away to walk, and crowds Grantaire’s space to show him the phone. “I’m pretty much okay with anything. Just try to get some things that don’t have shrimp in them.” Grantaire raises his eyebrows at him. “There’s this thing about child slavery in Thailand for cheap shrimp that gets transported to America. And I can’t eat child-slavery-shrimp in good consciousness.”

“How about we get nothing with shrimp then?” Grantaire concedes. “Except for shui mai. Because I can’t live without it. But anything else is fine.” Of course Enjolras would have problems with certain foods. Now that Grantaire thinks about it, he’s only ever seen Enjolras eat out at restaurants with them when it was a local place. Except for this place, it seems. “We don’t have to get dim sum, E.”

“I like when you call me that.” Enjolras says absentmindedly still going through the menu. “Even I have cravings, Grantaire. I think I’ve been wanting dim sum for a really long time if I’m being honest with myself.” Enjolras finishes ordering the food and they wait for it by setting up the kitchen.

As it happens, a lot of Enjolras’ plates and cups and mugs had broken during the night when the Poltergeist decided to take revenge on Enjolras’ existence. Enjolras lets out a long, suffering sigh and drops all of his broken dinnerware into one box. The non-broken stuff gets rewrapped and placed into another box.

“I figured these are nice, so I’ll donate them.” He stares at his broken wares sadly. “I really liked those…”

“Well, now we can go get you some more.” Grantaire had said ‘we’ and it had felt natural on his tongue. “We can go out tonight if we finish up early enough. Or even tomorrow morning?”

Enjolras smiles at Grantaire. “Don’t you work tomorrow?”

“Not until 5. The library wants to keep meddling kids from playing in my paint.” He jokes. Enjolras takes a few steps closer to Grantaire and they’re so close and it wouldn’t take too much for either of them to close the gap between their lips.

And the powers that be wouldn’t dare let that happen, because dim sum just arrived. And it smells heavenly. Enjolras takes the food and brings it into the perfectly set up living room.

Grantaire stares at Enjolras. “Wait…I wanted to help pay for it.”

Enjolras shakes his head and starts unpacking the takeout cartons and placing them on the coffee table. “No. You’re helping me with a special kind of problem. Please, let me treat you to lunch.”

Grantaire wants to argue. He really wants to argue, but he knows that arguing with Enjolras is like arguing with the sun. And he also knows that once Enjolras has his mind made up about something, he doesn’t budge on it. So he concedes defeat for now and plops down on the carpeting next to Enjolras and swipes up a pair of chopsticks. “Well, thank you then. I appreciate it.” He takes the entire container of shui mai and devours it in less that thirty seconds.

Enjolras laughs. And it’s a beautiful sound. Grantaire falls just a little bit more in love with him in that moment. “Well, now I know what kind of food you like.”

“Well, you know what they say: the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” Grantaire instantly wants more shui mai, but wait, _is that bean curd_. And there’s something in Enjolras’ eyes when he looks back up at him again. “What?”

“Nothing. I just…” Enjolras trails off.

“At a loss for words, Apollo? Twice in as many days? I feel this must be a record.” Grantaire pushes a small box of food towards Enjolras with a pointed look. The activist takes the box and starts eating.

“Don’t get used to it. I pride myself on my eloquence.” Enjolras moans slightly when finally he feels like his craving is being satiated. Grantaire’s face is red, but he hides it by staring intently at his box of food.

“You certainly are the most eloquent person that I’ve ever met. And that’s saying something. Those English majors are incredibly eloquent. They spend their days learning new and improved ways to be well-versed in the ways of speech.” Grantaire sighs just loudly enough for it to be obnoxious.

Enjolras laughs again, gently, and it sends a thrill through Grantaire’s soul. He’s pleased that he’s considered funny enough for even Enjolras to laugh with him. Enjolras presses their shoulders together. “I’m happy then that I speak better than an English student.”

“You certainly are remarkable.”

And just like that, their food is gone. Dim sum never quite lasts long enough.

The ghost has been quiet in the living room. Maybe Enjolras’ plan of moving in and claiming the space as his is working. But that leaves the kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom.

“What about your bedroom?” Grantaire brings it up, and Enjolras’ face drains of colour.

He stands from the floor and basically rushes straight into his room. From the living room, Grantaire can hear a soul-deep groan of frustration. So it only feels right to follow Enjolras into his bedroom. The place is a mess. The bed is overturned and all of his desk items are sprawled all over. Enjolras is on his hands and knees pushing things aside desperately. Grantaire is getting ready to ask if everything is okay, but Enjolras heaves out a huge sigh of relief as he pull his laptop from beneath his strewn about items.

It appears to unharmed and it hums to life when he opens the lid. Enjolras lets out another sound of relief and lies down on his back. “Oh, thank god. I don’t know what I’d do if it’d broken.”

“Probably get it fixed?”

“Shut up.” But there’s no malice behind his words. Enjolras continues hugging his laptop to his chest, chuckling a little hysterically to himself. “This is the weirdest day of my life.”

“Let’s make it weirder by moving the furniture.” Grantaire waggles his eyebrows suggestively at Enjolras, hoping that it gets him to smile, but instead, his face flushes to a bright red and he sits up abruptly. Grantaire wants to snatch his words out of the air and shove them back into his mouth and make it so that Enjolras never heard them, but he can’t...so…

“Let’s move my furniture.” ENjolras is on his feet and he places his laptop gently back onto his desk.

It’s Grantaire’s turn to flush. But Enjolras pays him no mind as he starts to move his mattress back onto his bed frame. Grantaire rushes to help before something gets broken. And they spend the next hour or so in Enjolras’ room in silence moving his furniture. And it isn’t nearly sexy enough.

There are weird noises in the bathroom when they finally finish up his bedroom. Enjolras sighs and leaves the bedroom. “R?”

Grantaire follows him in and the bathtub is full and bubbly and it doesn’t look unappealing necessarily. Enjolras is rolling the sleeve up of his hoodie and plunging his arm into the soapy water. And no, Grantaire does not stares at his wet arm longingly. Because that would be weird.

“Oh? Are you saying no to a nice bubble bath?” Grantaire teases and only grins more when Enjolras shoots him an exasperated look.

“Not if it’s made by a ghost.” Enjolras sits down and leans against his bathtub. “Besides, were we both supposed to fit in there? I don’t think we should share a bubble bath.”

Grantaire leaves the room before he can do something stupid. And he feels rude and he just left Enjolras there without saying anything. But his heart is thumping madly in his chest and his head is swimming and he can feel his wrists getting warm which is maddeningly stupid. So he just go to start putting together the kitchen.

“‘Aire?” Enjolras is standing awkwardly in the kitchen watching Grantaire work. “Did I say something? I know that I can get single-minded during times of stress. And I know I don’t mean to and I hope that you know that too…”

Of course Grantaire knows that. They spend the first two years of their acquaintanceship arguing nonstop over politics and pizza toppings and what colour looks best on Meryl Streep (literally any colour). And somewhere along the lines, they both sat down and decided that they were being childish and they’ve been pretty much inseparable ever since.

“Don’t worry about it. I just figured that we should get this room ready before the ghost decides to start throwing knives at us.” Grantaire gives Enjolras what he hopes is a reassuring smile. It apparently isn’t.

The golden god takes a few steps towards and Grantaire and gently takes his hand in his own. “Please talk to me.” His tone is pleading and soft and so unlike the Enjolras that Grantaire had met three years ago after a shitty day of classes. This Enjolras has kind eyes and soft lines to his face and shy posture, rather than eyes blazing with revolution and a clenched jaw and every line in his body screaming authority.

And it’s not enough to just be holding hands even if it feels like his skin is on fire. Grantaire doesn’t realise how close he’s standing to Enjolras until he can feel his breath against his lips. It wouldn’t take much for them to kiss and he wants to. Grantaire is staring at Enjolras’ mouth and how he bites his lips like he does when he’s nervous. Like he is right now. Wait. Enjolras is nervous. Grantaire meets his eyes and he’s surprised to see how dark they are.

Grantaire stumbles a step back, but Enjolras doesn’t let him get far, pulling him back by their still connected hands.

“I’m in love with you.” Enjolras says suddenly.

Grantaire’s mouth is wide open. And he’s pretty sure that this is a practical joke and there’s no actual way that Enjolras loves him. Is in love with him. It’s not like Grantaire has been waiting for this moment since the moment that they met or anything like that. This sucks because he can’t think of a single word to say and he wants to say all the words. Not even Pablo Neruda can express the kind of love that he has for Enjolras. And there’s a ghost in Enjolras’ apartment and everything feels too complicated and too much and he can’t—

“Grantaire…?” Enjolras’ voice bring Grantaire back to the present and he realises that he’s been silent and gaping. Enjolras’ face is bare and raw and open and he looks as though he’s ready to be rejected and he hates that look because how could he ever say no to his golden-haired Apollo? So he does what he always do when he’s nervous and corned. He rambles.

 

“First of all, I don’t believe you. Because I’m me and I’m an alcoholic and an artist without a future and you’re you. You’re the most beautiful, righteous, focused, and selfless person I’ve ever met in my life. And there’s no way that someone like you can love someone like me. Secondly, I’m pretty sure that you hated me when we first met. There’s no way that you turned around on that decided that you don’t love me. I’ve been in love with you since we met. I started going to meetings and pissing you off because I believed in you. I believed that if anyone were to change the world, it would be you. And you were so unattainable. Apollo, philanthropic and utilitarian and unwavering and beautiful and I had fallen for you. But I, insufferable Dionysus, only managed to enrage and provoke you. But you never kicked me out even when I was so drunk I couldn’t even sit down properly. I love you. I always have.” Grantaire takes a breath because he wants to say so much more, but the look on Enjolras’ face tells him that he’s said enough. And he’s word-vomited all over him and that he should probably stop talking.

He heaves out a sigh and realises that his hand is all sweaty but Enjolras hasn’t let go. And Enjolras looks...puzzled. “So...are you rejecting me? Or…”

Grantaire laughs and shakes his head because that is one of the most preposterous things he’s ever heard in his life.

“You’ve always talked a lot.” Enjolras’ blue eyes are alight with the glow of mirth.

“Says you.”

“And aren’t I always right?” Enjolras presses their foreheads together comfortably and he can feel Grantaire’s breath against his lips. “I will never understand how you manage to break yourself down while simultaneously building me up. I hope that in the years to come, we’ll overcome that.”

It’s too much, and Grantaire’s heart is too full and it’s too sweet and they’re too close but not close enough. He surges forwards and presses his lips to Enjolras’ _finally_ and he’s wanted this for so long. And Enj’s lips are so soft under his and so pliable. It’s a chaste kiss, but it’s clear that Enjolras wants more as he threads his fingers through Grantaire’s hair and tugs him closer. Grantaire parts their lips and can feel the glorious slide of their tongues together and he moans quietly and pulls away out of sheer embarrassment. His face is red and Enjolras rubs his thumb across his cheekbone and presses small kiss down his jaw and down his neck.

“I love you so much.” Those words are almost enough to make Grantaire cry, but he holds it together, wrapping his hands around Enjolras’ shirt. Oh, it’s his shirt. He tilts his head up to capture Enjolras’ lips again and gasps when Enjolras slides his cold hands up his shirt. He stumbles backwards and Enjolras pushes him up against the refrigerator, nibbling on his bottom lip.

Grantaire lets out a stuttered noise when Enjolras slots their thighs and grinds against him slowly. Grantaire had been trying to be good and keep himself reigned in, but feeling Enjolras grind against his leg while moaning quietly is doing horrible things to his restraint. Grantaire moves his hands down to the blonde’s ass and pulls him closer. He breaks their kiss and moves his lips to Enjolras’ ear.

“Your ghost is watching us.”

Enjolras laughs breathlessly and scratches his nails down Grantaire’s back. “Should we give him a show?”

Grantaire groans and leans his head back against the refrigerator. He still can’t believe that this is happening. He feels like any moment he’s going to wake up and this will all have been a dream. A wonderful dream, but a dream nonetheless. Enjolras drags his teeth down the length of Grantaire’s neck, drawing out high-pitched whimpers.

“I feel like we should talk about this.” Grantaire hates himself just a little bit for ending this. But he’s learned what happens when communication doesn’t happen. He feels Enjolras nod against his neck.

“We really should.” But Enjolras isn’t moving back, but thankfully, he does pause his ministrations, giving Grantaire a chance to breath and catch his breath and regain his thoughts. “I’ve wanted to shove you against a wall and take you since the moment I saw you, no matter how infuriating you were. I’ve wanted to shut you up by slamming our lips together. I’ve been waiting for this for so long.” Grantaire whines and presses his hips up against Enjolras’, earning a loud moan. “Sleeping next to you last night and being able to feel you so close had been the most thrilling part of my year. I love you.” Enjolras pulls his face back to look Grantaire in the eyes. “I’ve said my bit, now it’s your turn.”

Grantaire laughs, because of course this is how Enjolras would communicate. “Alright. So we’ve both been pining for a really long time. But I really think that we should be taking this slow…er. I mean, as much as I want you to ravish me, I want to make the best out of the entire relationship. I want to take you to Crate and Barrel tomorrow to get you fancy new dishes and get you brunch afterwards. And I want to come back after painting some of that mural and make us dinner and we can watch a movie in your new home. And after some time, we can christen it. Every surface all over your apartment, I want that. I do. I just…”

“Don’t want to rush.” Enjolras sighs and nods as he takes a small step away. He runs a hand through his hair and looks up at Grantaire a little sheepishly. “You’re right. And I guess you’ll want me all the more when we finally do decide to consummate our love.”

Grantaire laughs and pulls Enjolras closer to him again by his belt loops. “Alright, weirdo.” He presses their lips together just because he can, but pulls away after just a few moments. He doesn’t really want to pull away, but kissing means that his eyes are closed. “I just wanna look at you.”

“Shut up, sap.” Enjolras playfully pushes at Grantaire’s chest, but stops kind of abruptly when he notices exactly how muscular he is. “Uhm…”

Grantaire looks down at his chest self-consciously, but then Enjolras grips onto his shirt and he laughs. “It’s all my ballroom and boxing.”

“I want to see you shirtless.”

“No.” Grantaire gently takes Enjolras’ hands in his. “We’re taking this slow. But if you’re really good, maybe I’ll take my shirt off for you later. Next week.”

“Tease.” Enjolras sighs flippantly and bends down to go through a box of kitchenwares, definitely not waving his ass at Grantaire as he does so.

If Grantaire had known what kind of a tease Enjolras would be after admitting his love, he would have told him years ago how he felt. Because trying to match this image with the man that he had met three years ago is damn near impossible. Three years ago, he never would have imagined Enjolras to be sarcastic and clumsily sexy. And it’s incredible.

“Yeah, twerk it, baby.” Enjolras stands straight up and the back of his neck is red in embarrassment. And he’s holding knives and spatulas. Grantaire holds his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m only kidding. Don’t kill me, Apollo.”

“I’ve always liked it when you call me that.” Enjolras shoves the spatula and ladles into a drawer, but leaves the knives out. But then sticks them inside of the wood block, because of course he would have a fancy knife set. “But not when you call yourself Dionysus. He has one hell of a sad backstory.” Enjolras hands his silverware to Grantaire and points at the drawer under the microwave. “And that would make us half-brothers.”

“Literally everyone is related in Greek mythology because Zeus couldn’t keep it in his pants. Nasty asshole.” Grantaire lines the drawer first and then sticks the cubby of silverware in.

Enjolras giggles. “I don’t think he liked anal, Aire.” Grantaire stops what he’s doing and gives Enjolras a one part mortified and one part confused look. It’s then that he notices the dark circles under Enjolras’ eyes and the distant look that he has.

“Let’s take a nap.” Enjolras shakes his head. “I’ll take my shirt off.” Enjolras nods his head.

Well, that didn’t take much convincing. Grantaire takes Enjolras by the hand and leads him through his mostly put together apartment and into his bedroom. As soon as he sees the bed, Enjolras starts tugging his clothes off. And when Grantaire doesn’t make a move to take off any of his own clothes, Enjolras huffs and pulls off Grantaire’s shirt. “Much better.”

Grantaire laughs and crawls into the bed and holds his arms out from Enjolras. His Apollo brightens with a smile and climbs on top of him. They fit together so well, and Grantaire wishes that this will be his life forever. But he’ll wait to tell that to Enjolras. Within a few minutes, they’re both asleep.

\--- --- ---

At some point in time, Grantaire wakes up. It’s still light outside. And Enjolras has drooled on his chest. And that’s fine. It’s kind of cute actually. He moves just a little bit, but freezes abruptly when he realises that his arm has fallen asleep. Enjolras stirs and sighs.

“Oh no…” His voice is soft and Grantaire can’t help but wonder what’s happened. But then Enjolras is dropping his face onto his pillow and wiping at it furiously. Grantaire can’t help but laugh. “I drooled all over your beautiful chest…”

“Mon ange...there are worse things that could have happened.” But Grantaire still wipes his chest off with the blankets. Enjolras settles back onto Grantaire’s chest and sighs.

“I’m not ready to be awake yet.” Enjolras drapes his arm across Grantaire’s chest and presses up against him. “I hope the ghost hasn’t destroyed the apartment.”

“It doesn’t seem like that kind of ghost. I think it just likes moving things.” Grantaire absent-mindedly runs his fingers through Enjolras’ hair and is deeply pleased when Enjolras moans and presses his head closer. “Maybe we should try communicating with it.”

“That seems ill-advised.” Enjolras is asleep again. Grantaire sighs and he can't sleep anymore, but he does slide down a little more on the bed so he can pull Enjolras closer to his chest. And it feels like magic.

\--- --- ---

When Enjolras wakes up again, Grantaire is awake and reading a book. The sun has started to set, but there's still enough light for reading. For the most part.

Enjolras lies silent, watching as Grantaire wrinkles his nose as he reads and how beautiful his fingers are when he turns the page. He never thought this would happen and it's nice. He always thought that if something did ever happen between them, that it would be volatile and abusive. There's still time for that to happen.

“I can feel you thinking like a physical pain, Enj.” Grantaire is looking down at Enjolras with an amused look in his eyes. “Don't do that. Is it about your ghost? Or is it about us?”

“Both…” Enjolras tells a half-truth and it instantly makes him feel terrible. “Us. I’m thinking about us.” They’re in bed together, innocently, despite being half-dressed. “I’m thinking...when we first met--”

Grantaire shakes his head and sets his book down. “That was a misunderstanding. That’s kind of implicit thing about our relationship. We’ve always misunderstood each other.”

“I know, I know. And that’s what worries me.”

Grantaire sighs and pulls Enjolras up the bed a little so their eyes are level. “This is a legitimate concern, and I thank you for bringing it up.” It comes out a little sarcastically, but mostly sincere. “Look, you and I can make it through a few misunderstandings. And I want to have the same level of communication that you and Combeferre have.” Enjolras scoffs. “We will one day be able to communicate in silence.”

“Unlikely. I don’t have a mindspace like Combeferre, and I’m willing to bet that you don’t either.”

“Probably not, but you know. You and I will know each other biblically. I bet Combeferre can’t say that.” Grantaire waggles his eyebrows suggestively and Enjolras rolls his eyes. “We’ll have our own means of communication. Maybe, if this ghost is really cool, then we’ll be able to communicate through him.”

“Grantaire…” Enjolras warns.

“You’re right. That’s impractical. And we don’t need a middle person to mediate us. We’ll do just fine on our own.” Grantaire presses a small kiss to Enjolras’ forehead. “My point is that we may disagree and have weird misunderstandings and we’ll never go back to who we were three years ago.” Enjolras doesn’t look convinced and it sends a shock of disappointment through Grantaire. “I love you, alright. We’re gonna make this work.”

Enjolras touches Grantaire’s face reverently and then presses his palm flat against his face and rubs everywhere. “I wish I had as much confidence as you.”

Grantaire laughs and lets Enjolras rub his entire face. “I have confidence in you.” There’s a knock at the door. Enjolras looks up at Grantaire in shock who looks momentarily guilty. “I may or may not have sent Courfeyrac a text telling him about your ghost…”

Enjolras groans and rolls out of bed. “Just a moment!” He calls out and hopes that Courfeyrac can hear him. He starts pulling his clothes on and Grantaire does the same.

When the open the door, Courfeyrac all but bursts in, a brilliant smile on his face with Combeferre in tow. “Oh, please tell me everything!”

Combeferre is looking around the apartment, carefully assessing all of the objects around the room. “A ghost?”

Courfeyrac turns around and gives Combeferre a pout. “Don’t be such a non-believer. This is Enjolras we’re talking about. If there’s any human being that could be trusted to know the difference between a ghost and a weather balloon, it’s this guy, right here.” Courfeyrac takes Combeferre’s hand.

There’s another knock on the door and Jehan bursts in. “I heard about a poltergeist?!” They look wildly between Grantaire and Enjolras. The latter drops his face into his hands and Grantaire laughs. Jehan is carefully looking around the apartment, expecting something big to happen, and something the box of broken dishes clatters noisily and Jehan jumps, clearly excited.

Grantaire looks at the kitchen and then back at Enjolras kind of sheepishly. “I promise, I only told Courfeyrac.” But this is the Les Amis we’re talking about. Courfeyrac probably sent out a mass text. So within ten minutes, they’re all crowded into Enjolras’ moderately sized apartment brainstorming ways to get rid of it. Enjolras is sitting quietly on his sofa, letting people solve this problem for him. He had originally wanted this stay small, but seeing Courfeyrac drag Combeferre all over his living room talking animatedly about what the ghost had interacted with makes him happy that Grantaire told people.

Musichetta is talking to Jehan animatedly about spirits and the afterlife while Marius listens in with a look of sheer horror on his face. Cosette is laughing next to him, and trying to convince him that it isn’t as terrifying as Chetta is making it sound. But Bahorel is on the other side of him, telling him about poltergeists and deformed souls that try to possess human beings. Joly is talking to Feuilly about patients that he had earlier that week and Feuilly is laughing with him even if he doesn’t understand any of the medical lingo that Joly is tossing out. Bossuet is cleaning up wine that he’s spilt and Eponine is drinking straight from the bottle. They all seem so at home, and it makes Enjolras feel warm all over.

 

Still, this many people around a potential violent ghost. Jehan produces a few bundles of dried sage, lavender, and rosemary from their coat pocket and calls for silence. “It’s time for an exorcism!” They say in a soft but commanding voice.

Everyone seems to be into it, even Bahorel and Combeferre who is brought to relative excitement by Courfeyrac. They push the sofa to the wall and make a small circle.

“I need a lighter.” Jehan announces and pulls their braid over their shoulder. Enjolras is close to protesting because he doesn’t trust any of these people with fire in his home. But Eponine pulls one from her pocket and tosses it to Jehan. They set the sage on fire. “Hello, spirit.” Courfeyrac giggles and Combeferre kisses the top of his head. “So...this isn’t your home. And we’d all really appreciate it if you’d leave.”

Nothing.

“Are you still here?” Jehan asks and a book falls from the bookshelf. “Hey! That’s unnecessary.” Another falls from the shelf as though out of spite. “I’ll recite a verse from Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s _A Thought for a Lonely Death-Bed_.” Of course Jehan would have a poem memorised for this occasion.

“If God compel thee to this destiny,  
To die alone, with none beside thy bed  
To ruffle round with sobs thy last word said  
And mark with tears the pulses ebb from thee,--  
Pray then alone, ' O Christ, come tenderly !  
By thy forsaken Sonship in the red  
Drear wine-press,--by the wilderness out-spread,--  
And the lone garden where thine agony  
Fell bloody from thy brow,--by all of those  
Permitted desolations, comfort mine !  
No earthly friend being near me, interpose  
No deathly angel 'twixt my face aud thine,  
But stoop Thyself to gather my life's rose,  
And smile away my mortal to Divine !”

There’s silence in the room, but somehow less tense. Jehan’s sage is starting to burn dangerously close to his hands. “Are you still there?” Nothing. “Oh...that was anticlimactic.” Everyone had, of course, been expecting more. Something bigger and badder and more violent. But the ghost hadn’t been all that violent to begin with. 

Enjolras heaves a sigh. Combeferre steps into the circle and takes the sage out of Jehan’s hands and goes into the kitchen. There’s the sound of a gentle curse and then of running water and then he’s back.

“Where did you go?” Courfeyrac asks as everyone leaves the circle and starts to put the sofa back.

“I don’t think that Enjolras would appreciate if his apartment burned down.”

Enjolras laughs and collapses on his sofa and pulls Grantaire down with him. “Thanks for calling them.”

“I didn’t think that your idea was going to work…” Moving in. “But it was a novel attempt.” Enjolras cuddles against Grantaire’s side and doesn’t know how the room has gotten very quiet. Grantaire wraps his arms around Enjolras and kisses his temple. “I love you.” He says this as though it doesn’t mean the world to him and Enjolras kisses him like he knows it does.

“I love you too.”

“About fucking time!” Courfeyrac exclaims. “Oh, this the second best day of my entire fucking life!” He gives Combeferre a meaningful look.

Eponine claps Enjolras a little too hard on the back and smiles daggers at him, and Enjolras takes that as the most terrifying warning he’s ever received. She plants a kiss in Grantaire’s mop of curls. All of the Les Amis take turns congratulating them on finally getting their shit together. Combeferre places one of his hands on both of their shoulders, but doesn’t say anything. Courfeyrac explains that Combeferre just finished a thirty-six hour shift at the hospital. Jehan simply hands Grantaire a piece of paper with a short poem on it and gives him a look.

Grantaire nods and carefully tucks it into his pocket and Jehan seems to be pleased with that. He’ll read it when everyone’s gone.

Combeferre collapses into the armchair across the coffee table and pulls Courfeyrac down with him. Combeferre falls asleep pretty quickly, but his boyfriend talks animatedly to everyone about life, the universe, and everything. Courfeyrac has always had a certain presence in Enjolras’ life that gives him a comfortable amount of excitement in healthy doses. And Combeferre has always been calm and collected and provides their group of friends with evenness that even Enjolras has looked to in times of duress. And having them in his home after a huge event keeps him level. Grantaire gets up and presses a kiss to Enjolras’ forehead and goes to talk to Jehan and Eponine in the kitchen.

“Guys, what the fuck am I even doing?” He hisses quietly so that Enjolras can’t hear him. Jehan rolls their eyes and Eponine laughs. “This is a serious question.”

Jehan places their hands on Grantaire’s face and forces eye contact between them. “Enjolras has been in love with you for years. And quite frankly, I’m surprised this didn’t happen sooner.”

Eponine leans against the refrigerator. “Yeah, man. To be completely honest, I thought that you two were banging in secret for the past six months.”

“Oh yeah!” Jehan’s eyes widen with understanding. “After that one rally when Enjolras got punched in the face.”

Grantaire remembers that. He had personally taken Enjolras home and made sure that their leader wasn’t concussed and kept him fed and hydrated. Basically, for three days, he lived with him and doted on him and made sure that he wasn’t going to die.

“You two basically dropped off the grid.” Eponine smirks. “I thought it was banging time. I just imagined the two of you crossing swords the whole damn time.” She gets a distant look and Jehan looks at her in a cross of disgust and amusement.

“M-C-Squared was there.” Grantaire mumbles, carefully ignoring most of Eponine’s words. Jehan gives him a confused look. “Courferre. I dunno. Whatever we call them. The World’s Most Perfect Couple.”

Enjolras clears his throat and Grantaire starts. “I think we’re the World’s Most Perfect Couple. We took on a ghost together. Ferre and Courf can’t say that.”

Combeferre mumbles something intelligible from his seat. Courfeyrac leans closer to him and has him repeat it. “He said that he doesn’t ever want to see a ghost anyways.”

Grantaire laughs. “It’s not as crazy as it sounds, it’s mostly just surprising when you see everything rearranged or floating.”

“Maybe you should start one of those ghost shows! Finding ghosts around the world and getting rid of them with Jehan. And Eponine--”

“No.” Grantaire and Eponine say together. Jehan hangs their head just a bit (because it would be fun travelling with Grantaire and expelling ghosts).

After an hour or so, Combeferre is snoring quietly in the armchair, glasses askew, and Courfeyrac decides it’s time to go home. He kneels next to Combeferre to coo and gently shake his hand, his knee, his shoulder. But it takes harder shaking and loud speaking to finally wake up the tired doctor. Combeferre fixes his glasses and his sweater as he stands. As they leave, he pulls Enjolras into a tight hug.

“I am very happy for you. I always knew that you two were going to end up together. Just communicate. And Grantaire has always talked about what to sub in bed. He’ll like you bossy.”

“Dude!” Grantaire raises his eyebrows in offense and Combeferre gives him a glassy look and he sighs in defeat. “You’re so tired, I’ll let that slide. Good night, Ferre.”

Combeferre smiles at Grantaire and pulls him in for a tight hug. “Oh, I’m happy for you too. Enjolras has a weird weak spot right above his clavicle.” He pulls out of the hug and pokes Grantaire right below his neck. “It makes him do all sorts of weird things.”

Enjolras is heroically quiet, staring carefully at the wall, his face bright red. “Good night, Combeferre.”

Courfeyrac is laughing, but hugs them both goodbye with a cheery, “See you later!”

Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta leave shortly afterwards with hugs and gently kisses to their cheeks. Bahorel leaves with them, saying that he’s the only one sober enough to drive. Even though, Eponine had been the only one drinking. Feuilly goes with them because it’s his car, thank you very much. Bossuet apologises again for spilling wine and Enjolras promises that it isn’t a problem.

When Eponine leaves, she grabs Enjolras into a fierce hug and whispers something in his ear that Grantaire can’t hear, but that turns Enjolras’ face red. She kisses Grantaire’s cheek and pulls Marius and Cosette out with her.

And just like that, the apartment is empty again. Grantaire sighs and collapses straight onto the floor by the pantry. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t.” Enjolras sits down next to him. “It was really nice to have them here. And now, we don’t have a ghost anymore.”

Grantaire doesn’t linger for too long on the ‘we’, even though he wants nothing more than to hear that word for the rest of his life spoken from Enjolras’ mouth. “What did Eponine say to you.”

Enjolras is quiet for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts properly. “She gave me sex advice.”

Grantaire laughs. “Of course she did. Because getting some from Combeferre wasn’t enough.”

Enjolras drops his face into his hands and laughs. “Oh, I forgot how weird he gets when he’s sleep deprived. He’s usually so collected.”

“At least he doesn’t get cranky. Just chatty.” Grantaire leans against Enjolras. “Jehan gave me a poem to read to you.”

Enjolras peeks out from behind his fingers. “Oh?”

Grantaire pulls out the small piece of paper and clears his throat. “It’s only a line, but... I think it’s beautiful. _I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where, I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I don’t know any other way of loving_.”

Enjolras is smiling, in that dazzling way that he does. It’s mostly with his eyes, and his lips are just barely pulled up at the corners, but it lights up his whole face and it makes Grantaire’s heart hurt in a way he never thought possible. This smile is directed at him for the first time since they’ve met and god, it’s such a beautiful sight and it makes him so happy.

“I think that’s perfect.” Enjolras kisses Grantaire gently. “I love you simply, R.”

“I love you simply too, Enj.”

**Author's Note:**

> The poem that Jehan gives Grantaire is Pablo Neruda's Sonnet XVIII "Love". That poem literally kills me every time I read it, because it makes me so happy.
> 
> Apollo, I hope you liked it!!!


End file.
